Admiration, apparition, celebration—Mother’s Day, 2010

12May

Late in the evening on Friday before Mother’s Day, 2010, while standing in our backyard squeezing out a mop after cleaning up an unknown kitchen floor stain, I heard the patio door open behind me and a ghostly voice saying somberly, I brought you word. I guarantee that anyone in a similar situation would wonder as I did, if only for a brief instant, who the speaker was, from whence the speaker came, and what specifically is the word that the speaker brought—that sentence definitely got my attention!

I should state at this point that Word is a computer software program. The source of the voice was an unrecognizable backlighted figure, but I soon deduced that, in spite of the odds against it, the voice was that of my daughter, the one that lives, loves and works in Virginia. I also knew that I talked to her around noon on Friday and she was then at home in Virginia, 1,600 miles distant from San Antonio and busily working at her graphic designing profession on a project that was, in her words, due today and must be submitted today. I will respect the sensibilities of any reader that might be offended by not repeating my first response to her statement that, I brought you word.

Yep, she made a surprise visit for Mother’s Day through a highly successful and purely diabolical scheme hatched weeks earlier, a well-planned and executed plot that featured Fred, a family friend, and Debbie, one of her two sisters that lives nearby in San Antonio. She brightened up our lives for three days before returning to Virginia.

This posting was prompted (inspired) by a comment my daughter made on her blog at Cindydyer.wordpress.com in her posting of “Apparently you can get here from there.”

Before I continue I must post this disclaimer—I realize that “my daughter and me” is incorrect English usage. It should be “my daughter and I,” but me rhymes with Society, and I does not rhyme—doesn’t even come close. I believe this is referred to as “poetic license.” Therefore if there is a fault to be found, it must be charged to the song writer.

On her blog my daughter stated unequivocally that her father is “Undeniably, hands-down, no contest—the best father this girl could have.”

I labored long and strenuously on how best to return the sentiments expressed by my daughter. I despaired of ever finding a suitable response, so I have asked Ethel Merman to speak for me. She said it best in the song below, found on the Netflix web site and reproduced in its entirety (thanks, Netflix).

Some necessary word changes:

The term daughter should replace baby and certain other modifications should be made, depending on the locale and the audience, to emphasize that ours is in every respect a natural father/daughter relationship. I briefly considered singing and recording the song and dedicating it to her, but I was afraid the shower would drown out the words, or at least muffle and distort them.

We belong to a Mutual Admiration Society
My baby and me
We belong to a Mutual Admiration Society

I think he’s handsome and he’s smart
I think that she’s a work of art
I say that he’s the greatest man
And likewise I’m her biggest fan
I say her kisses are like wine
His kiss is just is good as mine
And that’s the way we pass the time of day
My baby and me
We belong to a Mutual Admiration Society

I say now you’re the sweetest one
I say, no you’re the sweetest one
She claims that I’m a natural wit
He says it’s just the opposite
The only fighting that we do is
Just who loves who more than who
And we go on like that from night til dawn
My baby and me
Oh, we belong to a Mutual Admiration Society

Now I do not exaggerate
I think she’s nothing short of great
I say that kind of flattery
Will get you any place with me
The way we carry on it tends
To just embarrass all our friends
And that is how we’ll still be years from now
My baby and me
We belong to a Mutual Admiration Society
My baby and me
We belong to a Mutual Admiration Society
My baby and me

A closing message to my daughter: My subscription to the Mutual Admiration Society and its publications will never expire—I have it paid-up for life, with a guarantee that there will never be any late or missing editions. To qualify for that guarantee I signed a document (with my real name) saying that I would never apply for a refund.

I remember my mother telling me about the time her mother—your great–grandmother—told one of the other girls to go milk the cow, and that one said, “Why bother, mama? She won’t stay milked!

Well, guess what? You did a great job vacuuming the carpet and mopping the kitchen, but the carpet did not stay vacuumed and the kitchen did not stay mopped. Now you’ll just have to do it all over when you return. I’ll leave the light on for you, with the carpet un-vacuumed and the kitchen un-mopped.

I’m with that astute young lady that so long ago stated an immutable truth when she said the cow would not stay milked. We have at least one really bright one among our family forebears, huh?